Recipient: slashababy dropout
Author: http://herm42.livejournal.com/herm42">herm42Pairing: Viggo/Sean Bean, Miranda/Orlando/Karl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: I was so totally unprepared for this assignment it was silly. I'd never written any of these guys before except ob. And as usual I bit off more than I could chew and this got really complicated until I took it essentially back to the drawing board and lopped 60% of it off and tossed it in the bin. Now it's a reality-challenged pwp essentially. I tried. Hope it isn't too disappointing


Viggo got back to his hotel room, already buzzed and with a back-up drink in hand, to find Sean sitting on his couch, reading. Viggo paused, and then put his glass down on the little table and sank down next to Sean as if he wasn't surprised at all to see him sitting there, and Sean removed his foot from the cushion in a mechanical motion so he could do so. Sean's eyes never left the book in the time it took Viggo's to slip closed, his head back, finger curled over the cold rim of the glass. Viggo could only hear it as the ice in his drink melted and readjusted, and Sean finished his paragraph and put the book down, folded his reading glasses neatly and placed them on top, quietly. Like a librarian that Sean. A pornographic librarian. The tip of a smile tugged at one corner of Viggo's mouth.

"So how was your day?" Sean said mildly and Viggo picked his head up, opened his eyes to reveal them already pointing at Sean.

Viggo gave him a slowly developed incredulous glare and Sean grinned. "Miranda hates me," he said simply and took a gulp of his drink.

"Well that works out. You hate her too."

"I don't hate her," Viggo said, dropping his voice from casual conversational to something more befitting a talk held in a dim room on a couch late at night.

"You don't?"

"No," he sighed, resigned. "It's not her fault."

"You know that is perhaps the most rational and sensible thing I've heard you say in the last week?"

"Sean, we haven't spoken the past four days. How do you know I wasn't being rational and sensible while you were gone?”

Now it was Sean's turn to look incredulous. "So you like her now."

"No, I just don't hate her."

They shared the quiet for a moment then, nothing to say, broken only by Viggo's occasional sipping at his bourbon. "Four days," mumbled Sean. Viggo nodded absently. "When was the last time that happened?"

Viggo paused and then said, "Never."

"I thought not. There was that time when I was gone for a day and a half with the flu, but as soon as I stopped vomiting I was back."

"Mm. I remember. You looked like shit," he said with a grin. There was nothing like insulting Sean to improve his mood.

"Thank you. Are you trying to go for five?"

Viggo smirked. "You're delusional."

"No I'm just terribly sensitive," he said looking down and away, a barely visibly crease in his brow. If Viggo hadn't been so tired he would have laughed.

"Uh huh," and a half smile was all he could manage.

Sean took Viggo's sweating glass from him and set it down in the ring mark on the table. Viggo almost looked forlornly at it, but Sean took his hand and pulled him up off the couch. So he turned his head briefly and mourned the loss of both his drink and his comfy seat.

Sean started at the top of his shirt, undoing the buttons down the line quickly and quietly. Viggo had been so distracted and fatigued, it didn't occur to him to participate until Sean had Viggo down to his shorts and undershirt. Sean flashed him a half smile and rubbed his thumbs into Viggo's shoulders, squeezing from neck to back to chest. Viggo's head lost all its support just then and clunked down onto Sean's shoulder, emitting a low groan as if he was made of wood. Sean chuckled at him and took his hands off Viggo's shoulders far too quickly for Viggo's liking and he made another sound that was intended to be a protest but was too weak to be taken as anything more than a generic inarticulate noise.

Viggo woke himself up enough to lean on Sean's shoulder and get the rest of his clothes off while Sean did the same, and then they slipped into Viggo's bed. It was really too easy to do that. Just slip into bed and let their bodies melt together and snug like a two piece jigsaw. It had been easy from the beginning. And fast. Viggo smiled to himself at the thought of just how fast it had happened.

Viggo, this is Sean. Sean, Viggo.

Hiya Vig.

Hi Sean. Say Sean, is that a two-by-four in your pocket or are you just really thrilled to meet me?

Ok so it wasn't that fast, but it was fast enough. Things were much more relaxed now. They had apparently gotten over the wild kingdom initiative of gulping your prey whole so it couldn't be stolen from you. They weren't so frantic anymore. And they weren't at it every waking moment anymore either. Viggo was almost grateful for that. Almost. Maybe every other day or so now, and once in a night was ususally enough to satisfy too. But man, that first plunge into bed (and Viggo's tired, giddy mind was up to its usual childishness making him giggle inwardly at the word 'plunge' painted on the inside of his eyelids) that had been insane. He wasn't sure why it didn't kill him. They screwed like teenagers. In trailers, in the woods around the set, behind sets and large props. And then tried to keep it a secret. As if it wasn't obvious to everyone. PJ was a little oblivious to the inter-cast politics, but even he had mentioned the “chemistry” between them.

"What are you giggling about?" Sean asked him as he lay there on his back, Sean leaning over him, hand brushing through soft chest hair. Apparently he had been tittering out loud as well.

Viggo turned his eyes to Sean's shadowed face, and it was like he very suddenly remembered why they had come together in the first place. Those months came rushing back in a flood of sweat and a crying wind of hot breath and whispered oaths. "Nothing," he said and pulled Sean down on top of him to capture his mouth and legs with his own corrisponding parts. Four days is a long time.


Sean had wanted to devour him hours ago. The second their eyes met and Viggo had stood there trying to stifle his smile. And then later when Viggo had slumped in his chair at the reading looking like a man waiting for his firing squad, like a man who had to spend a good chunk of that day and many to follow with Miranda, all he had wanted was to fuck him into the wall, into oblivion. Wanted to erase that distress from his brow and replace it with need, agony. Need only he could fill, agony only he could quell. Now though, Viggo was supine and pliant beneath him, already relaxed and just, better. Sean wondered when it had gotten so easy to read him, to give him what he needed before Sean even knew what that was. They were coming to the end of this. They both knew it. There would be pick-ups and parties and maybe even more movies, but soon, his time would be over and he would be leaving, and Viggo would stay. But for now, he had to forget that. He had to make Viggo forget it too.

Kissing him, tasting his skin, down his warm neck to hard collarbone, over, to hairy chest and ruddy nipples. Viggo's hands found Sean's hair and back, and Sean could swear he could feel Viggo adjusting, shifting, the pressure in his mind releasing while the pressure in his body, in his senses escalated.

It wasn't often that Sean felt compelled to offer himself up to get fucked. He didn't mind it, he just prefferred to top. And Viggo knew that, and it worked out ok. When Viggo wanted that position, he would ask and Sean was almost always happy to oblige. But he had spent the last four days stuck in a tin can they called a carivan while the sky opened day after day and rained, drumming the metal, chilling everything to the core, ruining shoots before they started. And they said the stuff with him at Minas Tirith would likely get cut anyway. There was some motivation for you. To be freed, to be posessed once again, to have Viggo claim him after being cut off for an unprecedented amount of time since this whole thing started; it suddenly sounded really good. He was just about to whisper in his ear the suggestion that they roll over, imagined the dangerous little smile that would spread over Viggo's face at the words, and he braced himself up on his arms and looked straight down at him. Sean had never seen him looking so needful. Not even when Sean had whittled away at him for hours with his hands and mouth and cock, trying to crack him but not letting him break. It wasn't his expression so much, which was mostly placid, a tint of anxiety still at the corners of his eyes. It was more subtle than that. His lips were gently parted as if to silently bleat, jaw cocked, his eyes glassy and wide, entreating, and yet. Maybe it was the force with which he restrained it behind his face, tried to keep Sean from seeing how much he needed, maybe that was what made him look so hungry, so deprived. Viggo would let it loose when they fucked. Everybody lost it during sex, it was like burping at a japanese restaurant. If you don't show some enthusiasm between the sheets, you're going to make your partner think he's no good. But outside of that, Viggo was a rock. Well, maybe a really hard clump of clay. Sean smirked down at him. Viggo just wasn't the type to openly need someone else in a way that wasn't transient, like sex. Neither was Sean really, but that was ok too. It could remain unspoken without being forgotten or ignored. Sean wanted possession, but Viggo needed it more right now. Four days was too long.

The momentary pause overwith, the tense, wordless exchange done, Viggo submitted with his posture and deep breathing as Sean covered him with his body, and reached up and covered them both with the sheet. Viggo wrapped his limbs around Sean and attacked his neck, sucking the warm skin into his mouth softly, getting as much of the taste of it as he could, then letting go and finding a new spot to suck. He seemed startled by the rough brush of Sean's thigh on his erection as Sean eased himself down a little to resume courting Viggo's chest, taking his own neck regrettably out of range of Viggo's mouth.

Sean kissed his way down Viggo's body under the warm tent of the sheet and sucked his cock into his mouth. Viggo moaned quite clearly as Sean sunk down completely on him and tried to spread his lips to take in everything he could, holding down hard against Viggo's groin and letting his eyes flutter shut at the salty musky scent and the tickle of hair against his nose. He bobbed back up and sucked, painting the underside with his flat tongue. Viggo's fingers found his hair again and his whole body writhed. Sometimes Sean just liked to get comfortable down there and suck Viggo slow and long, stroking himself with his free hand, the other gripping tight to the base of Viggo's cock. He could get into a rythm with it, and the weight of Viggo on his tongue and the burn in his jaw and cheeks would lull him, quiet him so that the need in his groin faded to the background. What was truly amazing was when Viggo would come, (it could take forever with the agonizing pace Sean would set for them, but it would happen eventually) the second Viggo's orgasm began to rock his body, Sean would start to come too. That always made for a spectacular evening, but that was not in order either. So Sean pulled himself away from Viggo's cock again, eliciting a breathy whimper from the man that made Sean smile.

Back up head to head above the sheets, Sean reached up and turned out the remaining bedside light and then ground his hips down against Viggo's, feeling him return the pressure from below. Then Sean reached up yet again, (four days and he'd forgotten how to do this efficiently) and produced the lube from the nightstand. A half moment later he was sliding into the pliant and very willing body beneath him, humming his pleasure into Viggo's neck, loving the thick pressure and tight heat, and then the slow drag and riptide of the retreat.

Way too long. And Viggo lost his composure quickly. Sean fucked him hard, and even in the darkness he could see the tight knot Viggo was in, how much he needed to have his burden lifted from him so he could recouperate and bear it better, later. He needed to be taken apart, forced to drop that load and sleep the night without it. Sean was grateful he knew how to do that.

Sean stopped a moment and Viggo came back to his body and seemed to look at him, puzzled and fizzy in the dark. He smiled and slid open the drawer of the nightstand once more. Viggo's eyes got a little big as Sean tightened the cockring around him, and he let out a harsh little breath that made Sean just a little impatient with is own ring. This is defineitly a two cockring night, he thought to himself, nearly chuckling.

He pushed back into Viggo's body and his cock fucking throbbed, massively, painfully, but it would so be worth it, he knew. Viggo was gasping with each inhale and making inarticulate cries on every exhale within just a few minutes and Sean had to fight with him to keep his hands off his own cock, so desperate, so undone, and yet Sean knew he could push him so much further.


Orlando lay prone on his mattress, pretending to read a book. He checked to make sure he was holding it right side up at least, but he wasn't turning the pages. Every little movment of his body set him on fire, and he wondered if you could die from blue balls. A few drops of sweat developed on his nose. He seriously wanted to kill who ever thought this would be a good idea.

Karl slouched against the wall behind the other bed with his own book in his hands, ankles crossed. Something Orlando wished was silence gripped the room for another moment or so and then Karl sighed heavily and let his head smack the wall behind him lightly. "Are you sure they're in Viggo's room, not Sean's?"

"Positive," Orlando said, his lower jaw propped up on his fist and his whole head moving with each sylable.

"And is it always like this?"

"Mm. It's a bit louder tonight than usual. Its been four days after all." That sounded nonchalant. Not like he takes down statistics on it, sits there measuring the decibles in the room night after night. Did it sound like that?

Karl rolled his head back and forth a couple times on the wall. "Going to need bloody ear plugs just to get any sleep," he mumbled. Orlando preyed he would just go to bed and decided maybe he could ruse him into it by putting his own book away and feigning fatigue.

Sean and Viggo, two rooms away down the hall were fucking each other's brains out, so hard and so loud, Orlando had no idea which one of them was yelling the obscenities he was hearing, but it didn't really matter. He had had plenty of fantasies about both of them, getting fucked by them, singly or in tandem. It was embarrassing sometimes. He had to work with these people, and between his fantasy life and their moaning, he was amazed he could face them at all. But he had far more fantasies about Karl. Even in the short time that he had known him. Dangerous fantasies that were realistic enough as to be plausable.

Orlando tossed his book away and let his head and arm dangle over the matress. "Why is it those two are the only ones that ever get laid around here?" he said gloomily to the floor.

Karl looked over at Orlando, a movement registered only in the very outer reaches of Orlando's vision. Orlando looked up at him. Karl's big empahtic eyebrows went from low to high in an uneven motion, and then Karl turned out his reading light and turned over in his bed.


Miranda might have been dripping on him, Orlando. She couldn't be sure. Karl was blocking the view, sadly, but she couldn't really think of a way in which she could get her pie and watch it too, or however the hell that expression went, so she settled for straddling the pretty young Brit who was on all fours on the floor between the beds, with Karl behind him, and Karl's face between her legs. She wasn't sure if dripping on him would be good or bad, considering. She doubted it would change anything for any of them, but she wondered, privately, if Orlando would dissaprove. She really couldn't tell what was going on with him actually. He was so quiet for all of this.

It was ok. She was going to fully enjoy this whether he chose to or not. She did it for both of them, partly because Karl was an ass and didn't deserve Orlando's attention, and partly because, well, just because. Karl was pretty good, she couldn't complain. She balanced herself with her hands on his head as a tremor starting from her groin crawled up her body and made her left leg tremble just a little. She panted and rubbed her thumb across Karl's brow, a silent encouragement, and burried her fingers in his hair. So warm, and Orlando's flanks rubbed against the insides of her legs lightly with his slight movements beneath her. And she wondered why Karl hadn't come yet. Not that she was complaining, but it occurred to her that if she was fucking Orlando and eating her out at the same time, she might have come already, and the mere thought made her momentarily dizzy. Karl lapped at her and made an obscene sucking noise that seemed to ricochet around her skull. He tried to get his hands on her, but he was leaned so far forward he couldn't keep his balance like that. She was wary of it, wary of what he would do with those hands when they got there, but he was so good and she was so far gone, she walked forward a little and he reached up grabbed her bare hips tightly. That was ok. He slouched at the new angle to thrust his tongue into her, and he hummed his pleasure as he did so. It was maddening because all she wanted was for him to keep sucking her clit and licking at it with that wicked tongue, and yet, the penetration was wildly erotic. He moved one thumb over to her shaved lip, tugging at it just a little, and she batted him away testily. He rumbled and sucked hard on her and that was what sent her gyrating and half collapsing on top of Karl. She came with three or four whimpering moans, digging fingernails into Karl's skull, trying to keep him on the spot and tear him away from it at the same time, gasping for breath and keenly aware of the soft flesh at her knees.

She always laughed a little after she came. She doesn't know why. The other two didn't comment, but Karl gave her a little nervous look, like maybe he was reconsidering the possibility that she was crazy after all. Orlando's head was dropped down, hanging between his taught arms, quiet and breathing. Karl was simply paused behind him, looking like he forgot his line, and she backed off of Orlando and sat on the bed, shameless and open, her hair falling around her shoulders.

“Come on,” she whispered to him, and threaded her fingers through the wetness between her legs. She coated a finger, twirling her wrist around and ran it through the slit, enjoyed the delicious tickle, and then watched Karl as it dissapeared inside of her. As expected, his hips cocked forward to thrust into Orlando, and she felt like a delightfully nefarious puppeteer. Miranda smiled and slid her finger out again and rubbed a little, just lightly on the spot since it was still hypersensitive, and spread her legs a little more for Karl to see. Two fingers now, they slid in and she watched as Karl's brow knit just a little with want, slack-jaw, and his hips pushed forward. She fucked herself with her fingers slow and easy and watched Karl sink into Orlando and match her pace exactly, thrust for thrust.


Karl was way beyond disbelief. If you had asked him when he got the part what his plans were for the first couple of weeks on the set, they wouldn't have included a twisted, sick, and otherwise fucked up tryst with his castmates. He wouldn't have told you he intended to develop an unhealthy and gunshot-fast obsession with a lesbian. Nor would he have told you he would break every rule in his own book to attain her. That just wasn't what he was expecting. Nor was he expecting to find himself buggering another man in the ass just to get a taste of her (seemed kind of like going from Melbourne to Sydney via Glasgow when he thought about it) when she had explicitly told him there would never be more than that. And she wanted to watch. That was possibly the most astounding thing. She thought this was hot. It wasn't just another demonstration of exactly how easy it was for her to control him, oh no. She'd already proven that she could make him do just about anything, which was again, a surprise to him. He remembered licking her red boots yesterday in the minute and a half they were left alone. Pointed toes and warm leather. That smell. He did it gladly and his mind still balked at that fact. This was her goal all along. To watch the two of them, and she wasn't hiding it at all anymore.

He could have stopped. It was fucking kinky after all. He liked Orlando. They had been practically inseperable since they met. Karl counted him a friend, and you dont fuck your friends. That was one of those rules he was breaking. So it felt just a little odd using him like that. Not that Orlando had seemed very resistant to the idea. Hesitant perhaps, but who wouldn't be. It was fucking kinky.

Though he did wonder, if it didn't bother him, why he was so quiet. Orlando isn't quiet. It made Karl wonder exactly how meaningful this was to him. If maybe that was the whole thing. If that was why he had an Orlando-shaped appendage lately. If that was why Orlando hadn't been sleeping since Miranda got there and the two of them got railroaded into sharing a room.

That room was starting to feel foggy and very warm. He made her come with his mouth, and she was done but not finished, it appeared. And niether was he. Because as long as she wasn't finished, neither was he, neither was Orlando. She was there on the bed, five feet away from him, not touching him or holding a gun to his head or doing anything that should have had any influence over his own will, and yet he was doing what she wanted. Because she wanted it. Somehow her getting what she wanted was getting confused in his brain with him getting what he wanted. There had to be a crossed wire somewhere.

He watched her, not him. He was fucking him. He was fucking fucking Orlando and that was a little disturbing to consider, because as hot as the kid was, he hadn't even considered it before then. It wasn't disturbing enough though, to tear his eyes off of her salatious tongue at the corner of her mouth and the wet fingers. Her pink toes came up off the floor and touched Orlando's head in an artistic caress that Karl couldn't imagine his own toes being capable of. She smiled serenely at Orlando and seemed to let her eyes smooth up and down his back and the landscape of taught muscles and skin.

It was hard to think with your cock burried in so much heat and wet satin, but it was about then that Karl realized that this had very little to do with him and Miranda. This was about Orlando. Orlando was doing it for him. Why, he couldn't be sure, maybe Orlando was concealing a feeling for Karl a bit deeper than freindship. And Miranda was doing this for Orlando. Twisted as that might be.

Karl had his hands on Orlando's back and a film of sweat glued them there as he continued his slow rhythm. He looked up at Miranda again and that witch doctor look in her eyes told him he was right. Maybe this wasn't as fucked up as it seemed on the exterior. Maybe this did make sense. And myabe this obsession was jsut a little bit misplaced.

Karl leaned over Orlando a little more to take his left shoulder in hand and squeeze and slide his thumb over the hard lump of muscle. Nothing happened really, but Karl was trying hard to communicate his understanding thorugh his hands. He leaned over him some more so that his chest scooped around Orlando's long back, and he folded him up in his arms and pulled him up against him. He slid up into Orlando's body again and hummed a little against the back of his head. With his face over Orlando's shoulder he could see the young man's eyes closed, jaw slack, skin flushed. His body was tight in front of Karl and yet he seemed unstable, so Karl trapped him with an arm across his chest. His pace quickened a little because really, Orlando felt as good as he looked. And he didn't know exactly what he thought he was doing, but he put his lips to the side of Orlando's face and kissed him once. It made sense in his head at least. If you can't kiss your mate while you're fucking him in the ass when can you? But Orlando opened his eyes then and looked at Karl, and Karl looked back knowing he probably looked as pink faced and sweaty as Orlando did. There was a moment there that maybe he should have expected. If you're going to look someone in the eyes while their body is pressed agianst yours impaled upon you, there is bound to be something more exchanged there than just fluids and a casual regard.

Orlando's eyes slid closed again as he twisted himself to kiss Karl. Karl found himself smiling just a little as they came together too, and suddenly this was all a little bit hotter, a little more than just a lustful release. Karl canted his hips up and Orlando made the first sound he'd made since before Miranda walked in the door that night, a little huff of air and voice yanked out of him. He started to go slack and Karl tightened his grip around his chest. Their tongues mingled within the heat of their sealed lips until Orlando broke it and let his head fall back onto Karl's shoulder and moaned as Karl slid thickly into him again. Karl smiled and nibbled Orlando's neck.

With his free hand, Karl stroked slowly down Orlando's chest and felt his abdomen quiver as he brushed over it. Orlando sucked in a breath when his hand circled around his cock and gave it a gentle squeeze and a pull. A few strokes and Orlando, with his knees spread over Karl's, began thrusting up and down, rocking between Karl's fist and his cock. Every time he sat down, Karl's cock sank into him and Karl made a painful-sounding grunt, and then he would thrust upward again into Karl's tight fist, releasing the pressure on Karl's cock and eliciting a whimper from Orlando's lips until he came back down again. Karl was getting close and he really didn't want to be, but by the way Orlando was tensing and clutching at him, he thought he was probably almost there too. What he really wanted to do was get him on the bed.

Orlando looked almost panic-stricken when Karl let go of him and slid out of his body. Karl guided him up off the hard floor and onto the other bed on his back and Orlando relaxed and smiled a little up at him. Here, he could go to town, and he did. He eased into a rhythm again and grinned when Orlando gasped a little every time he brushed that perfect little spot and every time he clenched down on him eliciting noises from Karl as well. Braced on his arms over him, Karl kissed Orlando again and started pumping furiously into him feeling the heat wash over his head and the air rush from his lungs. Orlando came with his hands on his own cock between them, tugging at it and crying out over and over, back curled and abdomen tight as he rocked. Karl could only watch him like that a moment before his own body let loose his empathy. He struck into him hard and fast, squeezing wide-eyed little noises from Orlando that rang in his ears and clashed with the sounds Miranda made from her box seat on the other bed as she came again. Everything tightened and the delicious pulsing in his cock counterpointed his pulse until everything began to drain away like thinned paint.

He collapsed next to Orlando on the little bed and just breathed for several moments. Off in some distant part of his mind he could hear Miranda gathering her clothes quietly. Then she was leaning on the bed over them, half dressed. She smiled sweetly. “Good boys,” she whispered and bent over to kiss Orlando fully and the two of them looked so insanely beautiful together, Karl was momentarily jealous of both of them at the same time. Then she kissed Karl too and he could taste a little of everyhting on her, but a lot of Orlando, and suddenly he knew he didn't need to be jealous.

She bounced into her jeans and shut the door quietly behind her, leaving the two of them in the barely lit room before they even had a chance to think about peeling themselves off the bed.

Karl looked over at Orlando and felt the first stirrings of worry. This changed things. Surely this had to change things in some way. Orlando turned and looked at Karl and the high arch of his eyebrows mirrored Karl's, and they laughed at each other. Karl snickered and turned over to pull Orlando to him. Orlando's own mirth died down and he simply smiled as he curled his hands up against Karl's chest and kissed him.

Yes, this changed things.


“Are you sure they're in Orlando's room? Sounds like they're right next door.”


“Sounds like all three of them are in there.”

“Mm,” Sean said, never taking his eyes off his book. Viggo propped himself up in bed and listened.

“I thought the point of Karl and Orlando sharing a room was so that Miranda could have her own until we got back.”

Sean looked over at him. “Well if those three want to shack up together, there's no reason Dom and Billy need to share a room either.”

“I'm pretty sure they want to.”


“They've been apart a few days too.”

“Mm,” he said again and snugged an arm under Viggo, giving him a crooked smile.


Concept created by Megolas in 2002
Fabulous artwork ©2002 by Hope.
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Site revised ©2006 by yueni